


Westland Holidays

by ShadowsOffense



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Cockblocking, Crack, Crossdressing, Cultural Differences, Did I Mention Crack?, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Multi, Sharing Clothes, post ending au, reverse powers, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsOffense/pseuds/ShadowsOffense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silly holiday short stories set post saving the world and pretending Westland traditions are exactly the same as popular American holidays.  Cara is Mord-Sith and D'Haran and takes to these traditions like a duck takes to walking on land.  Told chronologically.</p>
<p>This is nothing like my other stories, I swear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Halloween:  The Clothes Don't Make The Wizard

She had traveled every muddy, stone strew dirt track in the Midlands with them, fighting banelings and bandits, and generally singlehandedly saving the Lord Rahl from all the trouble he managed to get himself into. Now, she had even come all the way out to Westland to traipse the length of every so-called road _here_. But some things were asking too much.

“Come on, it will be fun.”

“No.”

“It’s tradition!”

“ _No._ ”

“I could make it an order, as your Lord Rahl.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Richard set his hands on his hips and raised his chin. “Cara, as Lord Rahl, I _order_ you to come to the party, in costume.”

“ _Fine._ ” Cara glared at the _Lord Rahl_ , plotting her revenge for this peasant tradition. He wanted her to come in costume; she’d come in costume. Slowly, Cara’s lips pulled back off her teeth. Only an utter idiot would mistake the expression for a smile.

Richard grinned back at her, happily.

* * *

Kahlan giggled, choosing a seat a healthy distance away from the bonfire, as Richard and Chase stared at each other with matching looks of outrage. Richard, to all appearances, was dressed as an armory; he had strapped so many weapons to his person Kahlan was uncertain what he was actually wearing underneath. Chase, on the other hand, was wearing a pair of _very_ tight pants, a barely there vest, and had hung a giant bone around his neck.

“I do _not_ dress like that!” Richard’s arm jingled as he pointed at Chase in outrage.

“ _You?_ What about _me!_ ” Chase’s pants groaned in protest as he stalked over to Richard. “What kind of boundary warden sounds like a troop of dancing girls when he moves?!”

“Boys!” Absently, Kahlan tugged at the neckline of her outfit; even this far from the fire she was starting to sweat. How did Cara stand it? “Let it go. _Honestly!_ You don’t see me complaining about Zedd do you?”

“What’s to complain about?” Zedd sniffed, smoothing invisible wrinkles from his skirt. “I wear a dress very nicely, you know. It even matches my white hair.”

What was sad was he really believed that too. Kahlan’s magic could read the truth in his words even as all other evidence proclaimed them lies. Consolingly she patted Zedd’s arm. “You do match.” That was, at least, a truth she could offer him

“Sorry Kahlan,” Richard mumbled. “You look very nice,” he added awkwardly. “Is the real Cara here yet?”

Kahlan shook her head. “Haven’t seen her. Do you think she’s really coming?”

“Of course she is!” Mercurial as ever, Richard’s head came up, eyes shinning. There were puppies that couldn’t manage that level of enthusiasm. “She said she would.”

Idly, Kahlan wondered _who’s_ first born child he had promised to make that miracle happen. That didn’t sound like the Cara she knew and… she shook her head. Keeping her doubts to herself, Kahlan scooted over to allow Richard to sit as Chase wandered into the crowd to find his wife.

“Bags boy,” Zedd exclaimed as he got a closer look at Richard’s outfit. “Where did you even find that many weapons?”

“They’re Chase’s backups. Emma lent them to me.” Spotting the couple, now together, Richard waved at the faux-Seeker. 

Chase started to wave back, but froze mid motion, jaw agape. All around him, other people were turning to stare in their direction. More than one mug of mead slipped from suddenly numb fingers to spill, unheeded, on the ground.

With dread Kahlan turned to see what they were all looking at, never noticing when her own drink suddenly vanished from her grasp.

It was Cara. She was naked.

She was very very naked. Except for a chicken she was holding in front of her waist.

She was walking towards them. Except it wasn’t a walk so much as a prowl. Her face was confident, arrogant; her sneer telling everyone exactly who was in charge and what would happen to them if they got in her way.

“What are you supposed to be?” Kahlan gasped, unable to think of anything else to say.

“I’m Zedd,” Cara raised her chin challengingly.

“I’m sure Zedd doesn’t have _those,_ ” Kahlan reddened as she gestured at Cara’s chest.

The Mord’Sith wizard raised an eyebrow. “That’s abundantly clear.”

“I wear a dress very well!” Zedd then rounded on Richard. “And I see someone’s been carrying tales about me! It only happened one time I’ll have you know. And I wasn’t expecting company.”

“This isn’t my fault!” Richard shook his head, the clatter of steel even louder in the silence.

“You ordered me to come, _Lord Rahl._ In costume,” Cara purred. 

“This wasn’t what I meant! Generally you have to wear something to be wearing a costume,” Richard half turned, so that he could include Chase in his glare as well.

The fire light was flickering along Cara skin like a lover’s touch, except for the deep shadows under her breasts.

Kahlan surged to her feet. “Cara!” Heads swiveled at the authority in her tone, too much emotion for it to be the voice of the Mother Confessor, but commanding nonetheless. “This is unacceptable behavior. We are leaving. Now.” She walked passed the other women with strong angry strides, leaving Cara to follow.

It never occurred to her that what everyone else saw was a Mord’Sith leading a nude woman away. To be disciplined.

In no time at all the party was deserted, people disappearing in couples and an occasional trio for the privacy of their houses.

Except for Zedd, who made his way, unimpeded, to the buffet. “Bags,” he said to himself, loading a plate. “All the cock-blocking power of a Wizard of the First Order, turned by Mord’Sith magic,” he shook his head darkly. “ _That_ is what happens when you have a Mord’Sith play at being a wizard!”


	2. Thanksgiving:  For All These Things

Leaning back in her chair, Cara waited as Zedd said a few portentous words, the decadence and pomp grating on her nerves. Food was fuel, to be consumed quickly and efficiently when needed. This was a waste of both time and resources, at least for a Mord’Sith. Frankly, Cara was also a little astounded Zedd was managing to refrain from eating long enough to give his speech. Crossing her arms with a sigh, Cara wondered how much longer he was going to drone on. 

Westland, Cara was learning to her discomfort, had a large number of celebrations based around these communal parties. Parties, it seemed, it was now her duty to attend. Richard, wary of what had happened last time, wisely had chosen to forgo forcing her... instead, he had gotten Kahlan to do it.

Any other time Cara would have been pleased by his unexpected development of good sense. The bastard.

She had seen it coming, of course. Seekers and confessors were crap at subterfuge. Confessors were, however, very good negotiators. Cara felt her skin flush as her arousal increased at the memory; Kahlan had quite a way with words. A few descriptive sentences were all that had been needed to convince Cara that her presence at one meal would be well rewarded. 

She chose to ignore that she had already been nodding yes when Kahlan put a hand on her arm and said ‘please.’

“And now,”

Cara straightened up as she recognized the change in cadence as Zedd reached the end of his speech. 

“Before we enjoy this fine meal,”

 _Finally,_ Cara thought, they could get to it. Her lips curled. She had **plans** and there were only so many hours until dawn. 

“Lets us go around the table and say what we are truly thankful for.”

Wait… _what?!_

Cara’s jaw dropped as each person proceeded to stand and give a recitation of their weaknesses. Grant it, there were few true surprises. Chase could be broken through his children while Michael’s true weakness was his lust for power… he was _such_ a Rahl, it was a wonder _Richard_ was the one who was adopted. Even so, Cara was stunned that they just got up and announced where it was best to strike them.

“Cara,” Kahlan hissed at her, nudging her in the side as the confessor re-took her seat.

Quickly, Cara considered her options. She could remain seated, but Kahlan’s eyes promised consequences. Cara was no stranger at using sex to control people, but it really wasn’t fair how easily the confessor could do it to _her_. This was a perfect example of why it was important not to let a weakness become general knowledge. Now Cara had to decide how her evening was going to go… and the small satisfaction she would have in defiance wasn’t worth it. Kahlan’s revenge for Cara’s “Zedd” costume made Cara clench to think about, even now, but as amazing as Kahlan was as a top, she was even better as a bottom. Especially when she was in a submissive mood, as she so clearly was tonight. Cara groaned to herself, Kahlan’s stare made it clear there only one way they would both get what they wanted.

“Fine,” Cara hissed back as she stood. “But I’m using _both_ my agiels later.”

A warm blush spread down Kahlan’s cheeks as her teeth bit into her lower lip. Cara held her eye until the confessor nodded her agreement.

With a smirk she looked at the rest of the crowd. This dinner couldn’t be over fast enough. “I’m grateful its time to eat.” Tactfully, she left the ‘finally’ unspoken and sat with a fake smile.

“Come on Cara,” Richard said, as the table became noisy, people severing food and passing platters. “That can’t be all you’re thankful for.”

Cara rolled her eyes and speared a piece of meat from a passing platter onto Kahlan’s plate. “Unlike some people, I’m smart enough not to announce my vulnerabilities to anyone with ears.”

Richard mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘just to those with eyes.’ 

“Cara,” Kahlan came to his rescue as Cara was about ready to unleash a truly furious glare. “Letting people know your weaknesses isn’t always a bad thing. Your friends aren’t going to use it against you.”

Kahlan took a scoop from bowl of red fruit gelatin and then reached across Cara to hand it to Richard.

“What is that?” Cara asked, snagging another piece of meat, for herself this time. “And you can’t tell me that everyone at this table is your friend.”

“It has figs,” Kahlan said, taking the bread basket from Zedd and giving them each a roll before handing it across the table to Emma. Cara narrowed her eyes suspicously, wondering if Kahlan was trying to make a culinary point but the confessor continued her argument as if it was unrelated. “And they’re not my enemies, either. At least,” Kahlan handed her a bowl of orange roots with a teasing grin. “You can tell _us_ what you are truly thankful for.”

Cara wrinkled her nose and dropped a small spoonful on her plate before handing it off to Richard. “I’m glad,” Cara’s shoulders slumped as she looked over into Kahlan’s eyes. Mord’Sith did not outwardly betray nervousness, but Cara might have played with the hem of her sleeve at that moment. For no particular reason. She was going to make Kahlan pay for this later.

“I’m glad I have friends who can bagger me about such things,” Cara said in a rush, squeezing her eyes shut as she finished. They would take this as encouragement, she just knew it.

Kahlan cupped Cara’s face in her hands and pressed there lips together, something she rarely did in public.

Cara groaned. She had doomed herself; they’d never let her get out of another party again.

She couldn’t even bring herself to mind.


	3. New Years:  For Next Year (ect)

“This is insane,” Cara said flatly, pointing at Kahlan with her fork. “ _You_ are insane. Do you have any idea what temperature it is out there right now? Do you not understand how cold it’s going to be after dark?”

Cara stiffened as Kahlan actually rolled her eyes at her. “It’s not that bad,” the confessor said in an exasperated tone. “Aydindril gets much colder than this.”

“Kahlan, you can walk on the pond. _Walk._ On the _pond._ ” She had seen it.

“Well, some of us can walk on the pond.”

“It’s a pond! You’re not supposed to walk on it!” Cara’s voice rose shrilly. 

Kahlan rolled her eyes at Cara. Again. “You didn’t even try.”

“It’s. A. Pond.” Cara spoke slowly, through gritted teeth. “And I’m not going.”

“Cara,” Kahlan rubbed the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. “If you’d just wear the wool—”

“It itches!” 

Kahlan slammed both hands on the table. “Who else am I going to kiss at midnight?!”

That drew Cara up short, her forehead wrinkling. “What?”

A blush crept up Kahlan’s cheeks.

“Kahlan,” Cara set her cutlery down gently and folded her arms across her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s tradition,” Kahlan mumbled, looking away.

“Why would you need to go outside, in a freezing cold crowd, to kiss me?” Cara’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “I could just kiss you now.”

Kahlan smiled, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “That’s not the point.”

Cara let out a small huff of air. “Then what’s the point?”

“It’s like a pledge,” Kahlan used her index finger to trace a small circle on the table top. “The person you’re with, the one you kiss at midnight, is the person you’re going to kiss the next year.”

“Oh.” A lavish smile spread across Cara’s face. “You know, there are other things I’d like to do to you next year. We could stay here and celebrate _privately._ ”

“Cara,” the confessor’s tone hung in between a whimper and a whine.

The Mord’Sith picked up her fork again and used it to spear a piece cheese from her plate. She brought the morsel to her lips and curled her tongue around the cheese, lifting it from the fork to her mouth. Her eyes met Kahlan’s as she chewed daintily and Cara knew she was going to win this one.

 **This** holiday would be celebrated _her_ way.


	4. Groundhog Day (Part 1): Frozen Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's groundhog day and Cara's finally showing an interest in one of Westland's traditions.

“So,” Cara questioned. “If the rodent-”

“Groundhog.”

“Groundhog,” Cara corrected obediently, with a slight eye roll. “Runs back into its hole, there are six extra weeks of winter?”

“Right,” Richard looked half wary as he waited for a snarky remark that didn’t come.

Kahlan stared in amazement as Cara tilted her head with genuine interest. “What happens if it doesn’t?”

“Uh,” Richard rubbed the back of his neck, startled that he had gotten this far. “Well, you know, spring…”

Both Richard and Kahlan’s mouths fell open as Cara actually _smiled._ Kahlan had half a mind to accuse Zedd of bespelling her but then Richard moved on to talk about the afternoon festival-bonfire and Cara’s expression shifted into her usual look of barely concealed intolerance. Wisely, Richard forewent mentioning the dancing and ice carving contest, instead meekly suggesting that Cara could watch by the fire, and maybe have of a mug of cider?

Cara agreed to this with a terse nod, but overall did not look too put out, so both Richard and Kahlan counted it a success.

“Who knows,” Richard confided to Kahlan later that evening. “I think she might be starting to enjoy herself; I know most of the traditions seem borderline ridiculous to outsiders, but they’re a lot of fun. Remember what she said on thanksgiving?”

Kahlan did, but she remembered what happened **after** thanksgiving much better than during and knew what part of the holiday had been the one to which Cara had truly referred. Nonetheless, Kahlan smiled and nodded anyway, because Cara had certainly taken to New Years with exceptional enthusiasm. Her skin pinked slightly as her thoughts drifted into what plans Cara might be making now. There was, after all, a very good chance that, given their track record, the Mord’Sith had simply decided all holidays were an excuse to have her way with the Confessor. 

Richard was still talking, so Kahlan made appropriate listening noises as she started to make a few plans of her own.

Unbeknownst to her, Richard, noting that Kahlan had drifted away in her head, proceeded to amuse himself as she seriously agreed that yes, the quest for the stone of tears would have been much easier if he had been turned into a kitten. And, certainly, it would have then been only logical if one of his first acts as Lord Rahl was to have turned all of the Mord’Sith into puppies.

* * *

When Kahlan woke it was still dark outside and Cara’s eyes hovered above her own, close enough that Kahlan couldn’t actually see the rest of the Mord’Sith’s face nor the candle that, she presumed, was the source of light which had woken her. It was by an extremely small measure that Kahlan avoided screaming.

“Get up,” Cara whispered, sliding off Kahlan and out of bed.

“Why,” Kahlan whispered back, slipping out just as quietly and snatching her daggers from the nightstand. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Cara pulled on her leather top, tightening the laces expediently. “It’s time to go see the groundhog.”

“Cara, what?” Kahlan’s foggy brain was certain it was too early to be awake for anything less than an emergency. “It’s not even light out.”

“Rodents get up early,” Cara replied, shimmying into her pants. “If we wait for sunrise we might miss it.”

Kahlan opened her mouth to protest, but dressing seemed to be the path of least resistance and the confessor was unable to summon the energy to fight. Half asleep, she managed to get into her dress and allowed the hyperactive Mord’Sith to handle lacing up Kahlan’s corset. Not sure she wasn’t dreaming it all, Kahlan’s forehead creased in confusion as Cara helped her get sorted out with barely contained eagerness that seemed misplaced for when she was getting Kahlan _into_ clothing. The confessor hadn’t been subject to this type of holiday excitement by anyone over the age of ten. Where had the Mord’Sith been hiding this part of herself? Was it some kind of nocturnal side that vanished in daylight like a mythical werebeast? Or had Kahlan fallen into another reality while she slept? It didn’t seem like there could be magic powerful enough to cause this type of radical transformation.

A thick fur cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and Cara led her by the hand into the predawn darkness. The sound of snow crunching under their feet was surprisingly loud, the birds still silent, asleep as Kahlan wished she could be. She only realized they were standing in front of Richard’s door when Cara slammed her fist into it.

“Come on woodsman!” Cara hit -it couldn’t be called knocking- the door again. “Get up!”

There was a thud and muffled cursing before the door swung inward.

“What’s wrong?” Richard asked breathlessly, just as Kahlan had. 

Running her eyes suggestively down Richard’s body, clad only in his trousers, the Sword of Truth unsheathed in his left hand, Cara sucked the inside of her cheek into her mouth. Her lips pursed suggestively, the corners of her mouth curling upwards in amusement. “Really, Lord Rahl,” she purred. “That’s hardly an appropriate outfit for groundhog watching.”

“Groundhog?” Richard blinked slowly, the hand holding the sword relaxing. He shot a questioning look a Kahlan.

The confessor shrugged resignedly. “She wanted to get there early.”

Evidently loosing patience with her sleep muddled companions, Cara took Richard’s arm and spun him, following up with a sharp shove that propelled him back into the house. “Hurry and get dressed!” she instructed, slamming the door closed behind him.

They heard more muffled cursing but when Richard next emerged he was fully dressed and had even had the presence of mind to grab some bread and cheese. These he willingly shared as they made their way to the field.

“Do you think she is trying to teach us a lesson about being careful what we wish for?” Richard whispered as Cara fussed about finding the perfect groundhog viewing place, making them move for a third time.

“Who knows?” It was a distinct possibility, Kahlan acknowledged, but the Mord’Sith’s interest seemed genuine.

Finally, Cara seemed satisfied by their position and allowed Kahlan to curl up against her side while they waited for the groundhog to emerge. As the brilliant colors of the sunrise lit up the sky and shimmered against the snow, Kahlan let herself slip into a half doze, lulled by the beauty and the warmth radiating from the Mord’Sith. Peripherally, she was aware that other people had started to arrive, clustering that the field’s edge where a few tables had been set up (the first location Cara had deemed unsuitable).

Kahlan felt Cara tense beside her a moment before a murmur of excitement ran through the crowd. Shaking herself awake, Kahlan spotted the fuzzy light brown head that was peaking out of its hole cautiously. She glanced over at Cara to see the Mord’Sith’s reaction, as she felt the woman shift again.

Her mouth fell open in shock. And no small measure of horror. “Cara, what are you doing?!?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Cara replied calmly, knocking an arrow into the wayfarer’s bow Kahlan must have been too tired to notice she was carrying under her cloak.

“It looks like you’re about to _shoot_ the _groundhog!_ ”

“Only if it chooses unwisely,” Cara replied, not taking her eyes from her target as the rodent crept a little further into the open. “Six more weeks of winter, Kahlan; I’m not letting that happen.”


	5. Groundhog Day (Part 2):

Kahlan’s mouth worked soundlessly, then, with a groan, she dropped her head into her hands. “I was really hoping I _wouldn’t_ win this bet.”

Cara’s eyes flicked sideways at her. “What bet?”

Kahlan opened her mouth to answer, but Cara shushed her as the groundhog crept the rest of the way into the open. Sitting up on his hind legs he sniffed the air and then scurried into the field after something.

Cara blinked and lowered her bow. “Is that a _carrot?_ ” she asked, waving a piqued hand at the chewing groundhog.

“Yeah,” Richard sighed. “Kahlan made me put some stuff out last night. Just in case you actually,” he waved a hand at her bow. “You know.”

Cara’s lower lip stuck out noticeably. “You _bet_ on my…” she trailed off indignantly.

“Yep,” Richard grinned sheepishly as Kahlan nodded.

“We do know you,” the confessor reminded.

Cara huffed and crossed her arms. “Well, what were the terms?”

Richard glanced away and Kahlan’s cheeks pinked. “Which of us would have to ask you to dance,” she mumbled, sheepishly. “You step on toes, sweetie,” Kahlan hurried to add at Cara’s outraged expression.

“No, I don’t, because I _don’t_ dance.”

“Not arguing,” Richard muttered under his breath, then winced as Kahlan hit him.

“We were also planning to wait until after the first couple of kegs were finished,” Kahlan sighed.

“Were you?” Cara’s tone was dangerous.

“We weren’t going to force you, Cara,” Kahlan dared to press a kiss against Cara’s cheek and slid her lips to the Mord’Sith’s ear. “The bet was just to ask; nobody wants you to do anything you don’t want to,” she whispered. “I have several other plans for today too and you can do as many of them as you want.”

Cara pulled back, looking unimpressed with Kahlan’s underhanded tactic, but at least the anger was gone from her eyes. “Dancing?” distain dripped from her tone.

“Or, you know, the chance to stomp Richard’s feet into the ground as many times as you want,” Kahlan replied with a smile. As expected, the opportunity to inflict retributive pain cheered Cara further.

Richard blanched. “Let’s start with the drinking,” he climbing to his feet. “We can see about the dancing later.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Cara smirked as she stood and offered Kahlan a hand. “Alcohol might make me _clumsy_ ; I wouldn’t want to throw off my aim.”

“I’m never betting against you again,” Richard muttered to Kahlan as they headed for the celebrating crowd at the tables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in 2011, part 1 before groundhog day and part 2 after the real prediction for an early spring.


	6. Valentines Day: Never Settle for Flowers

By now, Cara was starting to recognize the signs. They were small but she had learned to see them for what they were: There was a general increase of activity in the town. People cleaned things. Merchants kept their stalls open a few more accommodating moments. People smiled more. Some even smiled at her. It was not benign; there was another of Westland’s inane traditional celebrations in the works.

Neither Kahlan nor Richard had said anything yet, which meant she still had a little time; after what has happened a few weeks ago, they seemed to have decided that telling her ahead of time gave her too much room to make her own plots. They were right, of course, and since they were still silent it was safe to assume she had at least today to prepare her escape. There were various excuses she could employ, depending on the situation. Zedd’s healing ensured that faking an illness could only buy her a few hours, which was probably not enough, but she would rather wait for warmer weather to fabricate anything that would force her to travel, and therefore camp, for an unspecified number of nights. She needed more information.

She chose to go to Emma to get it. In part because she knew Emma would tell her what she wanted to know without prying overly much and, furthermore, could be counted on for her discretion. In part because Cara respected her. The woman may have never held a sword but she knew how to command. By walking into a room she owned it; people listened to her and even in disagreement they were respectful, submissive. Even Kahlan, who could be as commanding as any Mord’Sith. The Confessor said it came from Emma’s being a mother and school teacher, but Cara knew a Mistress when she saw one. And, in part, Cara chose Emma because it was cold and Emma would just give her the warm chocolate milk drink with extra marshmallows without making her ask for it.

She made sure to check her chin for drool before knocking on the door, though. 

In a matter of moments, the Mord’Sith found herself seated by the fire with a steaming mug in her hands.

* * *

“I’ll be gone for a couple of days,” Cara called as she entered their house later that evening, brushing the snow off her shoulders and stamping her boots for good measure.

“What?” Kahlan started, looking up from the tome she had been reading- another treatise on Westland law, no doubt. “Cara. Where were you? What do you mean you’ll be gone?”

“Just that,” Cara tossed her cloak over a chair before sinking into it, across from Kahlan. “Gone. Not here.” She stretched her legs out, arching her back, before relaxing with a sigh.

“Cara,” Kahlan’s voice warned as she placed a leather marker in her book.

The Mord’Sith kept her face smooth, watching Kahlan with feigned nonchalance from under her half closed eyes. “I stopped by Emma’s on the way back from the village. She asked me to take over Chase’s patrol for a couple of days. There’s some something or other,” Cara rolled her eyes. “She wants to spend it with him and you know I don’t care for celebrations. I agreed to help her out,” Cara finished in a pleased tone.

“Oh,” Kahlan said in a small voice, looking down.

Cara nearly smirked. 

“So, you’re going to be gone that whole time then?” the Confessor asked softly.

Cara nodded. “Just about. I figure I can time a swing back passed this way on the day of the big whosy whatsy and you could join me for an early afternoon ride, if you like? You should be able to make it back here for whatever big evening thing they’re having.”

“There isn’t really…it’s not that type of…” Kahlan blushed. “Thank you, I’d love to go on a ride with you.”

“Patrol,” Cara corrected. Standing up, she eyed the Confessor appraisingly. “Don’t forget your daggers.”

She didn’t look back to see the face Kahlan was sure to be making as she left the room but she did smile. The Confessor had probably thought her muttered “just how I wanted to spend Valentines Day” had been too soft for the Mord’Sith to hear.

* * *

Kahlan nudged her horse into a canter, more grateful than she should have been to be getting out of town. It wasn’t all the red and the hearts and the couples, she could deal with that; by nature, she was not a woman that got jealous of other people’s happiness. Much. 

With Cara gone, Richard, in his kindness, had gotten Michael to allow her to join him as an advisor when he held court and distributed justice. Her excitement lasted right up until the first case. They _lied_ , right to her face. Those so-called lawyers had stood before the Mother Confessor of the Midlands and _lied_. And had gotten away with it because she didn’t have any proof! She had nearly confessed them on the spot. Proof! A Confessor not having proof— she _was_ the proof!

And then, after an entire afternoon of listening to falsehoods while no one listened to her, Michael had had the nerve to hit on her. To insult Cara and then hit on Kahlan in the same breath, implying that the Mord’Sith was somehow inadequate because she didn’t understand traditional notions of romance. Kahlan had been longing to confess someone all day and had nearly suggested that Michael could try and weather her power as Cara, in her love, could. So, slapping him had been a form of restraint on Kahlan’s part, really.

What bothered her most about the whole thing was that she had been guilty of thinking along those same lines. Judging Cara for what she wasn’t rather than what she was.

Kahlan’s hood fell back as her horse ploughed through a snowy bank, letting her hair stream out behind her. Reining in, Kahlan slowed them to a trot, patting her horse’s neck and pulling the hood back up of her chilled ears. It was warmer than it had been, but still too chilly to go around bareheaded. She felt better, clearer, no longer like she was trying to outrun something.

Cara might not bring her flowers, but Kahlan was willing to bet she would bring her Micheal’s head, brother of Richard or not, if Kahlan hinted that he had bothered her. Perhaps she had been spending too much time with the Mord’Sith, but Kahlan found herself missing, just slightly, the respectful treatment a healthy dose of fear had gotten her in the Midlands. Not from everyone, of course, but there were a few people in whose eyes Kahlan could stand to see a little trepidation.

Cara was waiting for her at the foot of Miller’s bluff, where the track split, one snaking towards the next village and the other, barely traveled, heading towards what used to be the Boundary. At least, Kahlan assumed it was Cara. She held herself like Cara and she sat on Cara’s horse, though a heavy cloak deeply shadowed her face and prevented Kahlan from catching even a glimpse of red. 

“About time you got here, Confessor.”

Kahlan laughed. “I missed you too, Cara.”

Hearing her voice, Cara’s horse lifted his head and whickered in greeting. Cara looked down at his mane and Kahlan caught the flash of the whites of her eyes as she rolled them. “Yes, fine,” the Mord’Sith looked back up at Kahlan with a scowl. “We missed you. Can we patrol now? I’m going to freeze just sitting here.”

“Of course.” Kahlan expected Cara to turn and set underway, but she waited until the Confessor was even with her and fell in along side, despite the fact that riding two abreast meant that both of them were having to doge tree branches. “How has the patrol been so far?”

“Uneventful,” Cara sounded disappointed, but Kahlan caught the glimmer of a falsehood in the normally unreadable woman.

“Cara,” she scolded. “What happened?”

The Mord’Sith glanced at her guiltily. “I dropped… something on my foot. How was your time with the hearings?”

Kahlan sighed, letting the obvious doge pass. Cara couldn’t have been too hurt or she wouldn’t be able to ride, pain tolerance or not. “Richard told you he was arranging that?”

Cara nodded.

“They were… uneventful,” Kahlan grinned, teasing, before the expression faded. “Actually, it was more frustrating than anything else. I guess I’m too used to being in charge; being nothing more than an observer was hard. I felt useless.”

Cara snorted. “Useless?” she made the notion sound ridiculous.

The Confessor started to shrug and then froze, the motion half completed. “Cara do you see smoke?” she pointed northeast where a thin straggle of gray rose low over the trees.

Cara nodded grimly. “Let’s go.”

They kicked their mounts into a gallop, racing through the trees.

* * *

It had been all Cara could do not to urge Kahlan to hurry along for the first part of the ride. She couldn’t quite picture what she would say to the Confessor if her surprise caught fire and burned down before they got there. The Mord’Sith still wasn’t entirely sure why all this was necessary to prove she loved Kahlan, but she doubted smoking, ash covered ruins would make the appropriate point. Although, given that Kahlan had once pronounced the site of one of the bloodiest battles in history ‘the most romantic spot in all of the Midlands,’ Cara couldn’t be certain. She did know that her relationship with Kahlan hinged upon her doing something ‘romantic,’ though; Emma had been quite firm about that.

_“Sex?” Cara choked, nearly spitting the hot chocolate back into her mug. She swallowed hastily and looked at Emma with a too wide grin. “You mean to say that you have an entire holiday about sex?”_

_She was fixed with a firm glare. “I said that was one way to celebrate. If you make this all about sex and don’t let Kahlan know how much you love her, I can guarantee you won’t have to worry about how to celebrate this holiday next year.”_

And if Cara’s worth as a lover was hanging in the balance she wasn’t going to settle for a mediocre gesture. She was going to do the best, most romantic thing, ever… even if she had no idea what that was. She spent the rest of the visit pressing Emma for ideas.

In the end, it was Chase who had come up with an acceptable proposal and a suitable cover for her absence. The time of year proved to be a hindrance, however. Fortunately Cara had resources.

_“You’re kidding.”_

_Cara gave Richard a tolerant look. “You build things all the time.”_

_“But a house and a hut over a hot spring? In a week?”_

_“I’m helping. But,” Cara shrugged. “If it’s beyond your abilities...”_

_“Subtle.”_

_“Is that a ‘yes’?”_

When Kahlan saw it, as they crested the last hill and reined there horses in, smoke rising invitingly from the chimney of the, thankfully still standing, cottage, Cara had a moment of doubt at the look of sheer astonishment on the Confessor’s face.

“I didn’t know anybody lived out here,” the Confessor question suspiciously, turning her head to stare at Cara.

Uncharacteristically, Cara found herself at a loss for words. Fortunately she had a traditional response to fall back on. “Happy Valentines Day?” It came out more unsure than she would have liked. She didn't enjoy feeling nervous... and her foot still hurt from the hammer.

Then Kahlan smiled.


	7. St. Patrick's Day: Make Me

“You do it.”

“No, you.”

“Nu-uh, you do it.”

“Gentlemen,” Kahlan’s voice cut across the argument with ease as she joined Zedd and Richard, taking the trailing edge of the garland they were hanging and looping it over its hook. “What are we bickering about?”

“Cara’s not wearing green,” Richard gestured with a jerk of his head, his hands being full, at the Mord’Sith pounding tent stakes into the ground on the other side of the clearing.

Intending to respond, Kahlan found herself taking a moment to appreciate the view, watching the play of muscles across the Mord’Sith’s back as Cara swung her sledge hammer. As she knocked another iron spike into the hard clay that passed for soil in this region, that moment stretched into another moment. Eyeing the way Cara’s leather stood out in the green festooned crowd, Kahlan found herself thinking of apples; that bright, poisonous red that had so alarmed her at first, now something she numbered among her favorite things. Kahlan coughed in sudden embarrassment, her lips curling into a tight grin. Cara was, quiet literally, her forbidden fruit. “No, she’s not,” Kahlan finally answered, realizing her silence had lasted a little too long. She glanced over at Richard and quirked one eyebrow. “You were thinking of pinching her?”

Richard grinned. “Not personally.”

“I should hope not,” Kahlan crossed her arms and glared. “Pinching would be an insult, she’d never cave to such a tame punishment...” Kahlan’s voice trailed off. “I’ll use an agiel,” she murmured to herself.

Richard and Zedd both blinked.

“Well, that garland’s hung!” Richard said in a too loud voice. “Let’s go see if they need help setting up that unnaturally green beer, Grandfather! See you at the party Kahlan!” He waved jauntily and set off with a quick step.

“I told you we should have let her eyes count,” Zedd muttered as he followed. “They’re green.”

* * *

Truthfully, Richard had no longer expected to see Kahlan or Cara at the party, so he was genuinely surprised to see them. He was not surprise to see that Cara was wearing green and only mildly surprised that it was a green dress. Kahlan didn’t do things in half measures. What really surprised him, however, was Kahlan’s outfit.

“Kahlan!” Richard blinked, cocking his head to the side. “Why aren’t you wearing green?”

She sat down gingerly beside him, smoothing her Confessor’s dress, while Cara opted to merely lean against the wall. Neither of them answered him.

“Richard!” Kahlan slapped his hand. “If you pinch me, I swear by the creator’s name, I will confess you!”


	8. April Fools: Cry Wolf

April Fools Day was the one holiday where the entire point was to get revenge for having to tolerate all other holidays so, of course, it was the one holiday Kahlan wanted nothing to do with. Cara didn’t think this was fair. Their resulting argument ensured that the entire town knew that neither woman would be celebrating the holiday. Actually, the argument was fairly short but Cara’s threat to the gathered townsfolk about what would happen to them if they upset the Mother Confessor, aka if she couldn’t play then no one could, caused it to stick in everyone’s minds. And haunt quite a few dreams.

It was, perhaps, for this reason that the day started out fairly tamely; a few door knobs were smeared with honey, a few people ended up on the wrong side of a bucket of water, and all the chickens were turned pink. This last was though to be the work of Zeddicus, whose own chickens seemed curiously unaffected and who was sporting a large grin and snickering to himself at odd moments.

His grin vanished when he showed up to the inn for lunch and found someone had switched the cook’s sugar and salt. It seems in their eagerness to avoid upsetting the Mord’Sith, Kahlan could cook even if Cara could not, the townsfolk had forgotten about the dangers of upsetting a Wizard of the First Order, who was no longer concealing his identity. Things took a dramatic turn after that.

After the fifth small explosion once again distracted the wardens with whom she was “training” (to put it charitably) Cara’s lips were pressed together in a thin, displeased line. “Go,” she told them shortly, with a quick jerk of her head, ending practice. Clearly nothing could be done today. She wondered if Kahlan was having the same problem. 

With that thought in mind, she set out for the council chambers.

Frustratingly, not only was Cara right, but Kahlan had given up long before Cara got there. Michael was on his way out and told Cara she had missed Kahlan by a good candle mark. Grumbling to herself, Cara turned back the way she had come, this time heading for their house at the far edge of town. She was halfway there when she ran into Emma, who informed her that Kahlan had been heading to Richard’s. Changing direction once again, Cara was spectacularly unamused when she got to Richard’s and found him alone. She had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t just a run of bad luck either. “Kahlan’s told people to make me run around town hasn’t she,” Cara accused before Richard could offer yet another spot for her to fruitlessly check.

His denial didn’t convince Cara at all; he was terrible at lying.

“Fine,” She sighed. “Where did Kahlan theoretically go this time?”

Richard looked a little too relived. “Stables.”

Cara sighed again. “Come on.”

“What?”

She glared at him. “If I have to wander around, _you_ have to come with me; this is your stupid holiday.”

They ran into Zedd on the way. He gave them a brisk nod, intent on a teenager on the other side of the street. Cara skin began to itch as he gathered magic for another spell. She shot out a hand and grabbed him by the wrist. “Wizard,” she growled. “Don’t you have something else to be doing.”

“Ah,” Zedd took a good look at the expression on her face. The feeling of magic dissipated at once. “Of course, Cara, I’ll go get right on, uh, minding my own business.”

“Do,” Cara let him go, and gestured with a jerk of her head for Richard to continue. Richard exchanged a rueful look with his grandfather as he hurried away with Cara.

Kahlan was not in the stable. Cara cut off the hostler with a look. “Where?” she demanded, turning to Richard.

“Um.”

“She made you promise not to tell, I suppose?” Cara rolled her eyes “ _Fine._ Whatever. _Take_ me to her then!”

Richard looked relieved. “I can do that.”

As he led her out of the village proper, up onto a game trail, Cara began to wonder why she was even bothering. If Kahlan didn’t want to be found…. Cara paused as a break in the trees let her look back down at the village below them. Maybe she should just… she started to turn around when she caught sight of the opposite ridge line. Her annoyance vanished in an instant. “Richard!” She grabbed his shoulder and pointed at the dark plume rising out of a nearby peak.

His eyes widened. “Do you think someone…?”

“I think the mountain’s exploding; forget the stupid holiday, we need to get to Kahlan. NOW!”

“She’s at the bluff. Go. I’m going to go back and warn the village.”

“I’m not letting you go back down there,” Cara planted herself firmly between him and danger. She glanced passed him, an expression of longing passing over her face. “You go get Kahlan. I’ll get the villagers and meet you.”

“Cara-”

“We’re wasting time.” She met his eyes and refused to let her expression soften.

His hand gripped her arm, squeezing tightly. “Hurry.”

Richard had a last glimpse of her, blonde hair flowing out behind her as she raced for the village. Then he turned and ran too.

He found Kahlan quickly, cutting off her surprise with a rushed explanation. As they climbed up to relatively safe heights and found an overlook where they could keep watch for Cara, neither spoke. Then began the waiting, which was both boring and simultaneously terrifying. 

The sun sunk an hour and there was still no sigh of her. Or anyone else.

Kahlan stood, staring at the mountain still belching black smoke into the sky. “I’m going back for her.” 

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“Then I’ll meet her on the way.”

Richard nodded, expecting her to say something like that. “I’m going with you.”

“She’s never forgive me if I let you do that,” Kahlan said with a small smile. “Give me an hour.”

He scowled.

“Richard, please.”

He knew he had lost the argument when he made the mistake of looking at her eyes. “An hour. Then I’m coming after both of you.”

Kahlan barely remembered the trip back to the village; she was standing with Richard, then her cheeks where red with exertion as she came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the village where life continued on, uninterrupted.

She found Cara whittling a practice blade for Chase’s youngest outside then inn.

She looked up when she saw Kahlan and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll tell Zedd to stop the smoke then?”

“Please do,” Kahlan used her confessor’s voice and was pleased with how neutral she sounded, even if her breathing was still a little heavy from her run.

Richard showed up an hour and a half later, leaves in his hair and a fresh cut in his sleeve.

“What happened to you?” Cara asked, disinterest.

“A Gar attacked me, it had young, I couldn’t kill the cub so I’m getting dinner for it from the butcher.”

Kahlan and Cara exchange a look as he hurried away. “Sure.”


End file.
